


Seven Minutes in Heaven

by Canadianlarrie (canadianlarrie)



Series: Let Me Be Your Last First Kiss [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Awkwardness, First Kiss, I'll redeem their characters when I do the prequel and I'll bring Zaynie in as Louis' bestie, I'm Sorry, Love Actually References, M/M, Niall and Liam are only in it briefly and they're idiots in this one, Sexual Tension, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Harry imagining Louis' dick, because they kind of share that really, it's really just Louis imagining Harry's dick, it's snowing in their world because it's almost Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadianlarrie/pseuds/Canadianlarrie
Summary: It’s musty, it's confined and its where lost musical instruments go to die.  It also happens to be where Harry and Louis are currently standing after being forced into the alcove under the basement stairs at Niall’s house for Seven Minutes in Heaven.First kisses rarely happen as imagined – they’re awkward, ill-timed and sloppy af.The one where Harry and Louis kiss and the whole thing’s kind of a hot glorious mess.





	Seven Minutes in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the fic authors I've read over the past three years in this fandom. I've read over a thousand fics, mostly long ones, and if you asked me back then if I ever imagined writing one myself I would have laughed and asked if you were drunk. Lo and behold, here I am posting my first non-drabble fic and I'm equally terrified and excited.
> 
> This fic was inspired by my own experiences with first kisses as well as discovering who I am as a sexual being. It was a long time coming. If I would have listened to that little gay voice inside my head at fourteen years old I could have saved myself years of erasure and internalized biphobia. So this is me working my 'stuff' out.
> 
> Lastly, I would like to thank Ann-Fortunately and taggiecb for their willingness to read the drafts as they evolved as well as their feedback and encouragement. You are both expressive and emotive writers, and I look forward to reading more from you. xxoo
> 
> Please give kudos/and or comments if you liked this. And give a fic rec on Tumblr if you're feeling frisky!

_It’s happening again._ Harry thinks to himself hysterically as he and Louis are rudely shoved into the messy alcove under the stairs at Niall’s house for a second round of Seven Minutes in Heaven.  

It’s all Harry has been able to think about, obsess about really, since the first time this happened three weeks ago.

He is so fucking nervous.  More so than before, as they fumble blindly in the dark and cramped space.

Despite having the door pushed closed against his shoulder, he can still hear the hushed voices and giggles in the rec room as they juxtapose with the music from The Bleachers currently blasting from Niall’s shitty portable Bluetooth speaker.  

Faint traces of light seep through the slatted bifold door, and the stale scent of mothballs is kicked up as they struggle to find their footing, using parts of each other’s upper body to steady themselves.  

Harry’s pretty sure he’s standing on a child’s hockey skate, or it could be Niall’s old clarinet.  He smiles to himself, musing that it would probably improve the sound because Niall can’t play the wind instrument for shit.   But as he’s about to bend down to discover what he’s standing on, he is pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Louis clearing his throat.  

In a moment of pure panic and fear that he might throw up all down the front of Louis' Adidas hoodie, or worse yet -- shit himself, Harry says the very last thing in the world that he ever dreamed of admitting, especially not to his top-secret crush of two years.

“So, uhm.  How should we-“ Louis starts to ask.

“You were my first kiss.” Harry blurts out at the same time, and weakly adds, “I just wanted you to uhm…know?…Oh fuck”.  He cradles his face in his hands and shakes his head from side to side, incredulously.

Rooted in place, Louis is notably stunned by Harry’s Tourette’s-style outburst.  This whole time, three weeks to be exact, Louis thought Harry (the most gorgeous and genuinely sweet boy he’s ever had the pleasure of crushing on for the better part of two years) had only kissed him back out of pity.  

Since they met, Harry has always seemed to Louis like the kind of boy who wouldn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.  Louis has witnessed Harry eat the peel of an apple even though he doesn’t like the texture because he thinks the skin would feel sad and unloved and die a tragic death if he threw the peel in the garbage.

And also until recently, Harry had a girlfriend.  Her name was Abbie and they started dating almost immediately after he transferred schools at the start of a new winter semester in grade nine at Woodland Academy.  Granted, he never saw them display physical affection toward one another outside of holding hands or sitting next to each other during lunch.  

Although now that Louis thinks back on it, whenever Abbie tried to hug Harry for longer than a few seconds, Harry was always the one to pull away.  He knows this because he’s watched it happen for two years.  Two agonizingly long years.

But never would Louis have imagined that Harry hadn’t _actually_ kissed someone before.  Because what?

Yes, news recently spread that Harry and his girlfriend had broken up a few weeks back but that would still have to mean that they didn’t kiss the entire time they were together.  And that can’t be right.

But now he stands paralyzed in this decrepit room under Niall’s basement stairs (that also smells of old shoes, Axe spray and contains a possibly broken clarinet). He has a beautiful boy literally in his grasp, who has just confessed aloud that Louis was the first person in the whole fucking world that he had kissed.  

And instead of responding to such a confession like any normal human being would, he’s lost in his own head disseminating the why’s and how’s and plausibility of a relationship that never made it further than a hug.

“Uhm…Lou?  Can you uhm…say something? Please?” Harry pleads as he chews the skin around his right thumb.

This snaps Louis out of his reverie, and with this newfound knowledge of Harry's single and virginal status bolstering his confidence, Louis smiles and leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against the peach fuzz on Harry's left cheek as he delicately whispers, "you were mine too".

Naturally, the moment is interrupted by a loud burp and Liam shouting “See I told you I could drink the whole bottle of Dr. Pepper!  Pay up, fuckers”.

Niall pipes up immediately with "Shut up Leeyum, Harry and Louis are going at it like animals in the alcove and you're killing the vibe!"  There's an audible shushing coming from the other side of the bifold door and Niall continues, "I think I hear them moaning already and they still have five minutes left in there." Harry and Louis both wince at the sound of Niall laughing maniacally.

Louis groans, "Well.  That coming of age moment was forever soiled by a pair of shit-shows." He's still painstakingly close to Harry's face, so much so that he could feel his breath tickle his left ear.

"Should we?" Harry asks after a beat of silence, with his thumb hitching toward the door.

"Yeah, it's safe to say there's no recovering from that." Louis admits, then adds, "Who are we even friends with?  Like honestly? Who even are these people?" They both giggle softly at the sheer audacity of this entire hot mess event.

Harry pulls his phone out of his front pocket and checks the time. "Do you want to get out of here instead?  Like, the house, I mean. It's getting pretty late and I have to be home by midnight." Harry asks casually with a subtle undertone that borderlines on begging.

Louis face visibly brightens at the offer to leave Niall's house with Harry, and he remarks, "That's gonna be a hard yes from me.  And let's find some new friends along the way. Ones that don't get off on teenage humiliation."

They say their goodbyes to everyone at the party  (the shit-shows got the finger), and they put on their boots and coats in the front hall – Louis helping Harry into his navy wool peacoat, and in turn Harry helping Louis into his goose down parka – they say bye to Niall's parents in the adjacent living room (they’re sixteen..what parents would actually leave their son home alone with a bunch of teenagers to run wild?) and they make their way outside into the winter wonderland happening around them.

Within the span of fifteen seconds, both of their heads are covered in large fluffy snowflakes and Harry can't help but tilt his head all the way back and stick his tongue out to catch the falling flakes with it.  Louis, on the other hand, doesn't follow suit as he's too busy gawking at the sight of Harry with his adorable, yet sinful, tongue licking into the air as if it were an ice cream cone. Or, if Louis really thinks about it he gets downright nasty and imagines Harry doing that to his dick.  But yadda yadda, cart before the horse and all that. They’ve only kissed once for god’s sake.

Once Harry decides he’s done eating snow, and has unknowingly teased Louis enough, (although if you asked Louis that wouldn’t be possible, he can _never_ get enough of watching Harry) they begin walking the half hour distance across town from Niall’s house to Harry’s house.  

Neither one of them brings up the option of taking the night bus, as they both realize that will infringe upon their time together and they really don't want the night to end.  Like ever.

Maybe if they just kept walking, they would get so far out of town that they’d officially be vagabonds, and could sleep in parks and bathe in rivers and lakes, and travel the world like nomads or gypsies.  But now that its winter it's probably not the best time for such adventures, what with the hypothermia and all that shit that comes with it.

The night sky continues to cast snowflakes down around them, and the streetlamps that are dotted along the sidewalks bathe them in a rosy-orange glow that looks pretty fucking romantic amidst the snowy backdrop.  

They pass the time learning new things about each other.  They groan on about their siblings and their parents, and they reminisce about their earlier days at Woodland Academy, especially the funny ones involving Niall and Liam, and duct tape and arseholes.  Don’t ask.

Even though they've known each other for two years, they don't _know_ know each other.  They don’t hang out in the same social circles at school, even though they are both friends with Niall and Liam.  Harry keeps busy with the dramatic and visual arts groups and Louis is involved in a lot of academic clubs and sports teams.  

To be perfectly honest, Louis spent two years wondering if he would ever get the courage to say more than, “Hey how’s it going?” in the halls and Harry spent the same amount of time wondering why he avoided any and all physical intimacy with his girlfriend.  

And if Harry’s being perfectly honest, he thought Abbie was cute in a “hey, you look nice” way, rather than a “you’re hot, wanna bang?” kind of way that most of the other guys at school probably thought.  Couple that with him being the new kid at school, he figured she could help him make friends since he started halfway through the school year, and was nervous he wouldn’t fit in.  

He managed to convince Abbie that he was saving ALL OF HIMSELF for marriage and that his strict (non-existent) religious upbringing didn’t allow for romantic relationships.  The over the top pièce de résistance was telling her that if his parents ever found out about them he would be sent away to an all-male boarding school.

Even after warning Abbie of this caveat she was fine to have the ever affable and cherubic Harry as her ‘school-only boyfriend’ and the most physical they got was a hug goodbye after class, that was lucky to have lasted a nanosecond in length.  At best.

What Harry was also discovering was that his feelings for girls stayed at the platonic level, while his feelings for boys catapulted into romantically driven fantasies by day and sexually driven wet dreams by night.  

And if anyone ever asks him if either of the aforementioned dreams involved Louis he would spontaneously combust.

It wasn’t until recently that Harry broke things off with Abbie.  He outright lied by claiming that a teacher told his parents about his ‘school-only relationship’ and he was grounded indefinitely.  Ok sue him, he panicked and made up an elaborate story to get out of fake-dating her.  After all, he’s the boy who will choke down the apple peel to avoid making it cry and rot in the garbage.

As they continue walking down the road, it's evident they are both passionate in their storytelling as they use their hands to gesticulate their points and deliver the occasional punchline.  So naturally, their fingers brush one another's and sometimes their animated movements result in one of them swaying into the other's hips or arms. This, in turn, leads to an increased frequency of ‘hand friction’ until one of them  – Harry couldn't even remember who was the first to initiate digit to digit contact – slips his fingers to intertwine with the other's fingers.

And, like the cowards they are deep down, they avoid eye contact altogether for the last half a kilometre to Harry’s House.  They just swing their hands back and forth in stride as they focus on the sound of their feet striking the crunchy snow underfoot and they individually thank god the other boy can’t hear their heart pounding in their chest because of the insulating effect of winter coats.

After another five or so minutes pass, the inevitable arrives and they are at Harry's house. They trudge up the driveway and stop at the front door, still holding onto each other's hands for warmth and out of an unabashed desire to stay connected for as long as humanly possible.  

That, however, is short-lived because they look up at the same time see a commotion at the living room window, a mere ten feet away from them. Not embarrassing in the fucking slightest.

After standing there for a few moments, staring at the living room window in confusion, darkness suddenly enshrouds them when the porch light goes out.  Harry groans when he realizes the bulb didn’t burst ‒ it must have been turned off by someone inside – likely Robin’s attempt at redeeming Anne and Gemma from their ‘not so inconspicuous’ antics at the window seconds earlier.

Louis on the other hand, snickers and looks up, albeit a bit wide-eyed as has to strain to see Harry’s face in the dark.

Harry slowly sighs and then admits with a morbid tone, "Well.  That was proper mortifying. I'd ask you to come inside but I fear they'd pants me or something. I think they're hell-bent on making this moment as excruciatingly awful as possible.  They hate me. They must." He throws his arms up in the air in defeat and complacency, resulting in them both giggling at how catastrophic Harry is painting this situation.

Feeling slightly awkward and not knowing what else to say, Harry looks down and focuses on the middle button on his coat and notices a thread that is threatening to unravel and begins to wrap it around his right index finger, which cuts off the circulation.  It’s a welcome distraction though, because this silence is deafening and honestly a bit thrilling despite his heart feeling like it’s pounding outside of his chest.

Louis cocks his head to the side, and looks up to the sky for a moment in contemplation before replying, “Nah, Curly.  It’s proper sweet, I think.  If this were to happen at my house I reckon we’d have six kids on the lawn by now serenading us with an awful rendition of ‘Good King Wenceslas’. And I’d probably have to join them cuz that would actually be fucking hilarious, cuz like, who doesn’t love a good carol this time of  year, eh?”  

Harry's gaze snaps up and he stares at Louis as if he’s just hung the moon.  After a moment he regains his composure, leans in and confides almost conspiratorially,  "Lou, Love Actually is like, my most favouritest movie, like ever. And when he's trying to find Natalie’s house, that's like, one of the best scenes! We should watch it sometime." He urges with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm.  He realizes he’s just full on geeked out in front of Louis so he schools his expression and continues, " I mean, uhm...if you would want to. Uhm, like, with me. Some time."

Louis smiles and his eyes project sheer amusement at this bumbling boy in front of him.  He clears his throat, looks down and then looks back up at Harry for a few moments, tilts his head to the side and replies, “It actually makes a lot of sense, that that movie is your most ‘favouritest’ of all time”.

“Heeeyyyyyyy.  It _is_ a great movie! Hugh Grant is timeless and it’s the kind of movie you can watch all year round, not just Christmas, Lou. And did you know that—” Louis swiftly untangles his fingers from Harry’s (yes, they were still holding on tight to each other’s now grossly sweaty hand) and covers Harry’s mouth with it and interrupts him by saying  “Harry you do talk some shit sometimes.”

Harry’s eyes bug out of his head and he peels Louis’ fingers off his lips, and challenges, “Ok then smartass, why don’t you shut me up then?”

“Omigod Harold, I literally just did, when I put my hand over your mouth, not six seconds ago?” Louis sasses back.

They stood there smirking at one another until they realize they are truly just standing there smirking at one another.  

Louis looks down first, then Harry looks down and grabs the fingers on Louis’ left hand and rubs them to warm them up.  He looks up at Louis, who returns the look and they gaze at each other, fearlessly, for a few beats.  Slowly Louis inches forward, and then Harry inches forward until they are exchanging the same crisp air, mere centimetres apart.  

“Hey, how’s it going?” Louis whispers.

“Not bad. You?” Harry whispers back.

Louis leans all the way in and mutters, “Fanfuckingtastic.” against Harry’s bottom lip and proceeds to draw it into his mouth between his bottom and top lip and lightly suck.

Harry squeaks out a sound, that when looking back on this moment later, could be considered very manly by some and downright sexy by others.  Or very much like a church mouse but no one has to know about that.

Not knowing what else to do besides nip and nibble at each other’s lips they break apart after a minute.

The tension that builds between them in the next few moments apart, rapidly grows from barely palpable to overtly intense the longer they look at each other, glaring at each other's lips as each boy licks at them to keep from drying and chapping instantly in the cold weather.  

The air became unmistakably charged at that moment and Louis throws caution to the wind as he utters, "Fuck it.” He quickly grasps Harry by each cheek, thumbs resting on the crest of each cheekbone and pulls him inward, and as their lips connect he sweeps his tongue along the seam of Harry's lips in a bold maneuver to gain passage.  

Harry distinctly moans this time when he parts his lips to allow Louis’ gentle yet persistent tongue inside, and despite not knowing what to do, he goes with what feels most natural and begins to suck on Louis' tongue as it messily and fervently explores his mouth.  

Let’s face it, this is their first kiss post ’first kiss under the stairs’, making it their second kiss altogether.

Fully aware of their inexperience, Harry wonders what it would take to make it less like they’re on a deep sea diving expedition, and more like they’re on the silver screen sharing a kiss that would earn them an MTV movie award for Best Kiss in a Feature Film.  They’ll get there, of course.  They just need to practice. Like, a lot. And hand jobs would be fun too, but now’s not the time for him to be thinking about that.

Harry brings himself back into the moment and lightly guides his hands up to Louis' and slides his fingers down them and gently rubs the inside of each wrist with his thumbs, as they downgrade their steamy make-out sesh to a respectable level, with gentle nips and bites on each other's lips for, sadly he thinks, the last time tonight.  

When they pull apart, they rest their foreheads together and share a few steadying breaths before either of them speak.

And of course, they both take a moment to wipe their mouths with the back of their hands --  it was their second kiss ever and was a hot mess at best.

Harry is the first to break the silence with “That was ‒ really fucking amazing.  I honestly can’t think of a time when I’ve had this much fun being with another person.”

Bewildered, Louis says "Fun?  You thought that was fun? Go-Karting is fun, Harold.  Eating your weight in Sour Patch Kids is fun." He pauses in an effort to find the right word to accurately describe the moment, "Kissing me is…is…is magical."  He motions this declaration with his arms held up in the air as if he's some great and powerful being, and Harry has to duck and dive to avoid a collision.

Harry cracks up at the theatrics of it all and retorts cheekily, “Yeah, you’re absolutely right Lewis.  It was magical.  It’s the stuff unicorn farts and tours of chocolate factories are made of.”

“Ok, yeah.  Now you’re just being ridiculous and insulting and I will not stand for it.” Louis snorts back.

“What are you gonna do about it Lou—” Harry challenges right before he is interrupted by Louis’ hand over his lips again.

Louis' eyes crinkle imploringly and with mock authority, he declares, "Well.  If you must know. I'm going to pick you up bright and early tomorrow Curly, and I'm taking you out for breakfast."

Harry's eyes brighten and he smiles through Louis' fingers and slowly nods his head up and down.  One by one, he peels Louis' fingers away ‒ for the second time that night ‒ and replies, "I'd like that a lot, Lou."

“Ok then. It’s a date.” Louis declares stoically and gently bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, our first date.” Harry agrees and copies Louis’ movements.

Louis’ smile widens and he looks down at the ground, then back up again and boldly states “First of many, I hope.”

After a few beats and shit-eating grins later, they both shiver, finally feeling the effects of standing still out in the below-zero weather for the better part of ten minutes.  They lean back in to share a chaste, but meaningful kiss one last time and simultaneously whisper, "Goodnight". Harry opens the front door and gives a slight wave before flipping on the porch light for Louis and closing the door.

Louis stands on the other side of the door, a smile slowly creeps up on his face and he turns and starts down the drive, beginning his trek home.  When he rounds the corner out of sight, he pumps his fist in the air, reminiscent of Judd Nelson’s character at the end of the Breakfast Club.  He notices he can’t feel his feet hit the ground, as it feels like he’s floating on air.   _Magical_ , he thinks.   _Tonight was definitely magical_.

A brisk run was in order to rid himself of all the adrenaline and elation he was feeling in his tummy.  Ten minutes later he’s home and, after noticing everyone is upstairs asleep, he quietly gets himself ready for bed.  

Once his bathroom routine is complete, he whips off his clothes and throws on a pair of thin trackies and a Henley, turns off the light and climbs into bed.  He’s always cold and it’s winter, ok?

He tosses and turns in his bed trying to get into the perfect position.  He feels restless as he mentally goes over his day, and thinks back to when he woke up this morning.  He couldn’t have imagined that this was how his night would end.  

Not only did he spend the better part of the evening with his long-term crush, but he got to hold him and kiss him with everything he was made of.  

Eventually, he drifts off to sleep making plans in his head on where to take his boy for breakfast the next day.

 

When Harry closes the door, he spins around and leans back on it.  He replays the kiss in his head and swears he feels his lips tingle with the memory, as he lets out a huge breath of air.  

When he opens his eyes, he is met with another three sets staring back at him. From left to right, starting with his mum, his sister, and then his stepdad, he looks at them all and screams out "What the hell was that, guys?!”

Robin doesn’t speak, he only pleads with his eyes for Harry to forgive them for tonight’s nonsense at the window, and also for turning off the porch light.  

But Harry is having none of it and shakes his head with a smirk because nothing could burst his bubble.  

He strides up and plants a sloppy kiss on each of their cheeks and proceeds to shriek with bliss as he races up the stairs to his bedroom.  

Back downstairs, Gemma just stands in the front hall, mouth agape and thoroughly disgusted with the saliva streak he made sure to leave all over her cheek.  She was the mastermind behind all of it, he’s sure of it.  

Okay, so in all honesty he may have done equally embarrassing stuff to her when guys dropped her off over the last couple of years, and this is most likely payback for what he’s done to her.  But at the end of the day, she’s older and should know better.  This is his love life she’s fucking with.

Once he’s brushed his teeth and had a wee, he strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed.  

He replays the kiss in his head again because he just can't get enough of it, he touches his fingers to his lips, and lays still until his heart has returned to a normal-paced beat for a sixteen-year-old boy who's just had his first real snog. Ok so, the first kiss in the alcove was sweet but it was tentative and awkward, and if he had to pick he would always pick tonight’s kiss as his favourite.

He too flips and flops and kicks the blankets off and pulls them back up in an effort to find the perfect position, and he falls asleep wondering where Louis will take him in the morning when he comes over to his house to take him on a date.  A real date.  His first date. His first date of many, he hopes, with his boy.

  
  



End file.
